Spike meets Shawn Colvin (not literally)
by Riven
Summary: Six seperate songfics based around songs from Shawn Colvin's album "A Few Small Repairs". Rated PG for language, angst, and Spike's wandering hands. ;-)
1. Introduction & Contents

**Introduction (yes, you have to read this to understand what's going on)  
**  
The following songfics are all based around songs from Shawn Colvin's CD, "A Few Small Repairs". Actually, I find it amazing that a single CD can have so many fitting songs on it... Or maybe I'm just crazy. Either way, you'll see when you read them. I've included below in the Table of Contents an individual summary for each one. This is why you needed to read this stupid droning intro to understand what I'm doing here. Keep in mind that these are to be treated as _individual _fics. They are COMPLETELY unconnected, and I can't guarentee that they are particularly realistic, either. But then, this is fiction, so they don't have to be. ;-)   
  
Oh yes, and here's a disclaimer... just in case any big bad Powers That Be are watching:  
_The songs in these fics probably belong to Shawn Colvin, John Leventhal, and Tom Littlefield (because they wrote them. I dunno who actually owns the copyrights). The Buffy characters are property of Joss Whedon. Neither are used with permission, but I'm not getting paid for using them, so sod off and leave us pathetic obsessive souls in peace!!_  
  
**Table of Contents  
  
**"Buffy Came Home" ~ _Spike/Buffy_ A post-Gift fic, but it's REALLY WEIRD. You might want to skip this one if it really bothers you that I kill Spike in it... but it's a HAPPY death. Sort of. Okay, he goes out of his fragile little brain first, but if you want to know how I kill him you'll have to read it. Trust me, I adore Spike -- I wouldn't give him an UNhappy death.   
  
"If I Were Brave" ~ _Spike/Willow_ The events in this fic are technically post-Gift, but QUITE a while in the future. Willow is now a woman in her 30's. This is, I suppose, a fic assuming she isn't gay... or maybe that she tried not being gay and it didn't work for her. Short summary: Spike and Willow break up.   
  
"84,000 Different Delusions" ~ _Spike/Dru_ Takes place directly before "Lovers' Walk", when Spike breaks up with Dru and goes back to Sunnyhell. I've taken a slight creative liberty by changing the way he actually arrives -- in my version he doesn't fall unconcious the instant he gets out of the car.   
  
"Trouble" ~ _Spike/Buffy_ Takes place as Buffy (dressed as Spike's robot) is about to walk out of Spike's crypt at the end of "Interventions". This doesn't change the ending or flow of events, but it would have been really cool if Spike could do this thing with the teleportation.... ;-)  
  
"Mona Lisa" ~ _Spike/Willow_ Brain candy. Spike and Willow dance. Not set in any particular episode/time. Just a lovely little interlude for Spike/Willow shippers. This is my favourite one.  
  
"Nothin' On Me" ~ _Spike/Dru_ Ya know how after "Lovers' Walk" Spike is belting out "My Way"? Well, I like this song better. And this ending. ;-) To clarify -- I don't know if this ending is plausible, having never actually seen/read anything that happens afterwards until somewhere around the middle of season 5. But I like this ending, so you'll all have to live with it. I've saved this one for last because it's happy not quite as droolingly romantic/depressing as the others. It's basically the opposite of the first one.  
  



	2. Buffy Came Home

**Buffy Came Home**  
  
  
  
He was the outcast. He received no invitation to be a part of any miracle, nor did he expect any. On this night, as on every other, he stood guard at the grave of his fallen enemy, his fallen lover, his fallen heroine. The wind tousled his white-gold hair, swept his long coat into a billowing dance as he weaved his way through the gravestones in an uneven stride. His hand clutched tightly to the cold glass of a bottle of liquor. This night was no different.  
  
Yet, something changed. He felt it before he saw it. A sudden rush twisted him about, nearly threw him to the ground with its force. Scrambling to look at her grave, he uttered in a fearful oath the name of the goddess whose final sleep he guarded.  
  
Light. There was a brilliant light. He had to hide, had to see, had to know. Crouched behind a crumbling grave marker, he watched as the ground before his love's grave split apart. Tentacles of solid light writhed from the opening, all battling to escape. They clung desperately to each other as they climbed higher, higher. Perhaps, thought the sentinel with no small amount of sarcasm, his terror was what Jack had felt as his beanstalk grew.  
  
And the light twirled on, up and up, each beautiful yet somehow gruesome arm melting into the others until what stood upon the mound of earth resembled a quivering tree trunk made of glowing clay. And still, as the guardian watched, the shape grew more distinct. It didn't take him long to realize what was happening.   
  
Soon, the seemingly reincarnated form of Buffy Summers stood upon the grave. She was dressed in a gown of flowing white, bare-footed, yet in her eyes was the flame of resolve -- a flame which burned brighter to Spike's eyes than even the light-tentacles had.  
  
Without a word, without a pause, the girl began to walk. And without wasting even a moment in shock, Spike followed.  
  
_Buffy came home to her favourite room.  
Buffy sat down in the kitchen.  
She opened a book and her box of tools.  
Buffy came home with a mission._  
  
She navigated her way through branches and debris scattered over the streets by the wind storm. She confidently entered her own home, switched on the lights. From a window, Spike saw her leave his line of vision only to return shortly afterwards with a tattered book and a wooden box whose aged paint remained only to stain the wood just enough to reveal its once-grand pattern of gold Celtic knots twisting all around the edges on a background of blue.  
  
_She says "Days go by, I'm hypnotized.  
I'm walking on a wire.   
I close my eyes and fly out of my mind  
Into the fire."_  
  
From inside the box, the now-living goddess gently lifted a beeswax candle, a shallow stone bowl nearly a foot in diameter, and a small leather pouch bulging with whatever mystery it contained. Her hands danced over the candle, igniting it into flame as if by her will alone. She opened the pouch and sprinkled the fine dust within into the stone bowl, then tilted the candle towards it until the heat forced the powder to burst into magnificent green flames.   
  
Spike watched, entranced, as his goddess spoke words he could not hear to the fire. Gradually, the flames subsided, leaving what appeared to be a liquid mist. Buffy stared with wide eyes into the mist, obviously seeing something the rest of the world was blind to.  
  
_Buffy came home with a list of names.  
She didn't believe in transcendence.  
"It's time for a few small repairs," she said.  
Buffy came home with a vengeance._  
  
Without warning, the ghost-Buffy turned her eyes to look directly at Spike. He was too startled to move, but held her gaze steadily. Once more, the goddess began to speak -- but this time the words bled into his mind, as if they had always been there.  
  
_She says "Days go by, I'm hypnotized.  
I'm walking on a wire.  
I close my eyes and fly out of my mind  
Into the fire."_  
  
And she burst into the same green flames that had engulfed the mysterious powder in the bowl. Spike leaped back from the window as the fire filled the room. He scrambled backwards, too panicked to even stand up straight. Then, the window shattered. Shards of glass flew out, raining down around him. And in the middle of the deadly rain, the burned-black gown the Slayer had worn as she entered the house. The body within the garment landed on its feet before the terrified vampire. He looked up to see the grinning, hideous face of Drusilla, transformed into vampire form. She shone her horrible teeth at him, opened her mouth, and taunted him with a strange, murmuring song.  
  
_Get the kids and grab a sweater.  
Dry is good and wind is better.  
Count the years, you always knew it.  
Strike a match, go on and do it!_  
  
With a horrible cackle, she leaped up and flew above his head, where her body exploded into sparks that turned into the fading stars dotting the dusky morning sky.  
  
Morning.  
  
And had this been a dream?  
  
The glass in the window was still shattered. His pale skin was cut and red where the shards had hit him. With the fascination of a scavenger watching its meal rot, he plucked a few larger shards from his flesh and carelessly discarded them by his feet.  
  
Morning.  
  
_Days go by, I'm hypnotized.  
I'm walking on a wire.  
I close my eyes and fly out of my mind  
Into the fire._  
  
Spike clambered to his feet. Mad. He was going mad. And madly, he began to run. Fast and faster, swifter than his legs could carry him, his speed a matter of will as much as physical ability, he seemed to fly over the deserted pavement.The wind still howled through the streets. He was running from himself. He was running towards....  
  
Where was this place? This surely was some magic, for when his feet stopped moving, he was mere yards from the edge of a high cliff. And ahead of him on the Eastern horizon, the sun would leap at the land soon. It would be only moments.   
  
_Light the sky and hold on tight.  
The world is burning down.  
She's come back on her own and she's all right.  
Buffy came home.  
Buffy came home._  
  
Again he took off running. The cliff ledge was now five yards away, now three. Now his toes touched the edge. He spread his arms and leaped as the sun's cruel eye slipped over the horizon.   
  
The pain was excruciating, glorious. This was perfect. This was death as he had never imagined it. He was fire. He was heat. This was better than any life, any sex, any feeling he had ever dragged up from the pits of his memory over the last nearly 130 years. He was the fire.  
  
And he was falling. His long black coat billowed behind him -- above him, for his feet flew over his head, contorted his body in a way that would have been painful if not for the agony of the flames that numbed all else. It seemed like an eternity as he fell, though it was mere seconds. The flames ate him until he could no longer bear it, then numbed him until he longed to feel their sensual fingers clawing at him again. Then, at last, he felt other arms fold around him. Through the white pain that clouded his vision, another sight broke in. His goddess's face smiling at him, her arms wound tightly around him. Rejoicing, he pressed his lips to hers.  
  
His last sensation before his body disintegrated into a cloud of ash was one of ecstasy. Then even afterwards, the cloud of ash in the wind seemed to dance with joy.  
  
_Buffy came home..._  
  
  



	3. If I Were Brave

**If I Were Brave**  
  
  
  
_A crowded train station. Two figures stand out among the heaving throngs who rush about dragging suitcases and young children, screaming into cell phones and arguing with fellow passengers at the doors into the train compartments. These two watch the rushing people with a detached interest, holding hands with the same detachment - as if the gesture is done more out of habit than love. It is as if they are observing a science experiment rather than living as a part of it._  
  


WILLOW.  
All the happy couples on their way to New Orleans,  
Reminding me of when we got along…  


  
_Spike looks at her almost scoldingly. There is a note of bitterness in his interruption._  
  


SPIKE.  
They're only renting time and space to fill up with their dreams…  
  
WILLOW.  
…And dreams are what they'll have when they have gone!  


  
_She looks at him as if to ask "And what do **we **have?" Spike turns away, his eyes on the crowd but not really seeing them._  
  


SPIKE.   
How could it be that I was born without a clue to carry on  
And still it is the same now I am older?  
Armed with just a will and then this love for singing songs…  


  
_He sneers._  
  


…And minding less and less if I am colder.  


  
_Willow looks at him, but he refuses to meet her eyes. She sighs. Their hands separate. Her following words are not said to anybody in particular._  
  


WILLOW.  
But I have this funny ache, and it's burning in my chest.  
And it spreads just like a fire inside my body.  


  
_She crosses her arms, seeming at that moment very vulnerable. Still, Spike refuses to notice her._  
  


WILLOW.  
So did something get left out in my spirit or my flesh?  
Would I be saved… if I were brave and had a baby?  


  
_At last, Spike turns to her. He puts his hands on her shoulders. There is no love in his motion. It is a gesture made out of friendship, rather. Not true love. _  
  


SPIKE.  
It was never clear what would come, but that's the risk and that's the test…  


  
_Willow steps back and takes one of Spike's hands as he lowers them from her shoulders. She stares at his fingers, playing with the palm of his hand in the manner of a fortuneteller._  
  


WILLOW.  
…And you were the only one so far to follow…  
And no one talks about when one might stop and need to rest…  


  
_Spike watches her playing with his hand. He seems angry._  
  


SPIKE.  
…Or how long you sit alone before you stop looking back.  
It's like you're waiting for Godot,  
And then you pick your sorry ass up off the street and…  
  
BOTH.  
…Go.  


  
_They simultaneously raise their eyes to look at each other. Spike refuses to give in to anything other than anger. He throws his hands up into the air, frustrated, referring to their relationship:_  
  


SPIKE.  
And what the Hell is this? Who made this bloody mess??  


  
_Willow frowns accusingly at him._  
  


WILLOW.  
And someone always answers like a martyr!  


  
_Spike narrows his eyes. _  
  


WILLOW.   
Is it something you should know? Did you _never _do your best?!  


_  
Spike slaps her, the pain from the chip registering on his face with the anger._  
  


SPIKE.  
Would you be saved if you were brave and just tried harder??  


  
_Willow, devastated, grabs her bags and rushes onto the train in tears just as the whistle blows, announcing the train's departure. Spike glues his infuriated gaze to her compartment door until the train has disappeared from sight. On the train, much later:_  
  


WILLOW.  
So now I ride the aught one-thirty-five to New Orleans.  
I float a mile above Life's toil and trouble.   


  
_Her eyes seem almost happy as she looks out the window to the landscape rushing by, beautiful to her even though it is cloaked by night. Cut to Spike, still standing on the deserted train platform. His eyes are full of regret. Tears pour down his cheeks._  
  


SPIKE.  
A thousand lonely lifetimes I still wait and then go on…  
A clown to entertain the happy couples.  


_  
At last, he turns and trudges off, leaving the train tracks behind him.  
_  
  
  
  



	4. 84,000 Different Delusions

**84,000 Different Delusions**  
  
  
  
Spike stands, motionless, hands clenched. He watches Drusilla "making out with a chaos demon". He sees nothing else. She knows he is there. At one point, she turns her head just slightly to give him a cruel, "so there" look.   
  
_Good love, bad love,  
Good love, yeah.  
My time, your time,  
My time, yeah.  
  
_Spike screams something at her. She responds, calm and smiling. We cannot hear what they are saying. Dru takes the chaos demon's hand. She laughs, looking as if she's having the time of her life -- mocking Spike. Spike screams something again and runs off.  
  
_84,000 different delusions.  
Take a ride in the car.  
84,000 different delusions...  
  
_Spike is speeding down the highway at night, roughly in the direction of Sunnyhell.   
  
_Good times, bad times,  
Good times, yeah.  
Our world, their world,  
Our world, yeah.  
  
_His face is angry. The anger gradually melts into intense sorrow. Spike pulls the car over and leans his head against the steering wheel...  
  
_84,000 different delusions.  
Meet me down at the bar.  
84,000 different delusions...  
  
_Cut to Spike sitting in a bar. He is obviously fairly drunk by now. There is nobody else around except a barkeeper. When he tries to tell Spike the bar is closed, Spike grabs him by the collar of his shirt, enraged.  
  
_Go look at the lake, please.  
Go look at the sky.  
Go look at a baby.....  
  
_Spike sees blood leaking onto his fingers. He blinks, seeing that he has not only grabbed the barkeeper's shirt, but also his skin -- and in doing so has torn his throat open. Rather than switching into vamp mode, his eyes go wide and fill with tears. He drops the barkeeper's corpse and runs out of the bar.  
  
_We're all gonna die!  
  
_Spike stumbles into his car and drives speeds away, ramming a pedestrian in the process.   
  
_84,000 different delusions.  
We don't know who we are.  
84,000 different delusions.  
We don't get very far.  
84,000 different delusions.  
Everyone is a star.  
84,000 different delusions...  
  
_At the sign to Sunnyhell, Spike stops the car and gets out (here's where I'm changing things slightly). He looks at the sign, barely reading it. He begins to walk into the city, counting his steps as he goes. "One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten... eleven..." Then he collapses.  
  



	5. Trouble

**Trouble**  
  
  
  
_As Buffy is about to leave Spike's crypt, he calls after her._  
  


Baby, let me set you down.  
You look so troubled, and I think I know,  
Just when you think you've come around,  
There you go.  


  
_Buffy turns slowly, glancing at him over her shoulder with a mixture of anger and curiousity. He looks at her pleadingly. He struggles to stand, fighting dizziness and the black shadows that loom at the corners of his vision,. Threatening to engulf him completely. He holds on to the stone slab for support, but only with the lightest touch necessary. _  
  


Now I know the business of the heart,  
And it'll get you any way it can.  
You need someone to walk with in the dark, well,  
I'm your man.  


_  
The weakness of his battered body takes hold of him. He falls to his knees, still clutching the stone slab.   
_

  
I go to the trouble like a magnet.  
That's where I'll be.  
Trouble is just a place to sing.  
It's what you need.  


  
_Buffy rushes to him and crouches beside him. She reaches out with the intention of helping him back to his feet, but when her fingers touch him, they are both transported. All of a sudden, they are standing on the corner of a building many stories above a bustling city. Spike's wounds are gone. He looks at the Slayer with unmistakable lust in his eyes, but also something that may be gratefulness. They stand on the building's ledge. Buffy faces Spike, her back to the edge. One false step, only a small distance backwards would mean death. She presses her body against Spike's. Their hands are locked together close beside their faces._  
  


I swear you look like you're in jail,  
And all at once you're half way out the door -   
One foot dancing, one foot nailed  
To the floor.  


  
_He lets go of her and hurls her off the building._  
  


Chasing those circles in the ground.  
The same old shit is still the same old lie!  
Just when you think you've got it down,  
Watch it fly.  


  
_Buffy's body spins in the air but does not fall. She stops slowly and hovers above the ground, her life seemingly in Spike's hands as he stretches his arms out and up, Moses-like, in a magical gesture. She watches him as he sings. His brow is knit, his face set in an expression of firm resolution - almost like a failed attempt to use anger as a mask for sorrow._  
  


I go to the trouble like a light,  
Or like a dare.  
Trouble is just a friend to me, I know  
It'll always be there.  
Be there...  


  
_He reaches out to her. Buffy is all to glad to eagerly take his hands and allow him to pull her back onto the solid, of not completely safe, foundation of the building ledge. But when her feet touch solid ground once more, they are not on a building but on real grass. Before them is a dreamlike scene - a cemetery filled with gravestones, each one carved with the name of a loved one. Closest to where Buffy and Spike stand are three larger graves, which read "Drusilla", "Joyce", and "Angel" in big block letters. Spike kneels before the center stone (Joyce's), hiding his face from Buffy. When he sings again, his tone is softer. His voice betrays the tears in his eyes._  
  


It's really hard to make your peace,  
So give me some credit for all the Hell I've paid.  
This world's a blessing and a beast  
Every day.  


  
_He turns again, stands, goes to her. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, pressing his forehead to hers._  


  
So come on, baby, let me show you how  
The less you know the more I comprehend.  
You don't have to drag me down.  
I descend.  
  


_He begins to slide his body down hers, his hands moving gently over her arms, her breasts, her stomach. Disgusted and finally over the initial shock of Spike's teleporting tricks, she pulls harshly away from him. As soon as they cease to touch, they are back in Spike's crypt. Spike is still covered in wounds from Glory's torture. He is kneeling a few feet from his stone slab. Buffy only barely restrains herself from punching him unconscious, and instead contents herself with giving him a poison glare. She turns sharply and marches proudly out, but pauses just beyond the door to Spike's crypt when she hears his weakened voice once more.  
_  


I go to the trouble... and I like it.  
That's where I'll be.  
Trouble is just like love. If it's half the way,  
It's all I can see...  


  
_As tears threaten to overpower her, Buffy runs off... but not soon enough to miss Spike's final words:_  
  


...And it's just what you need.  
  


  
  
  



	6. You and the Mona Lisa

**You and the Mona Lisa**
    Spike and Willow stand face-to-face in the center of a busy street. The cars, however,
    appear to exist on a separate plane of existence -- passing through the two bodies like
    fog when they come near them at all. Willow stretches her hand out to Spike, but
    neither step closer.
    
    
    WILLOW.
    Hold me down to anything,
    Anything that you see.
    I should walk away right now.
    
    
    
    Spike now also raises his arm towards her. Their outstretched fingers are only an inch
    apart as they stare into each other's eyes.
    
    
    SPIKE.
    I'll be there, so never mind.
    I'll be the one to fall,
    Waiting for you to look up at me.
    
    
    
    The scene surrounding them vanishes, leaving them both standing in an endlessly
    immense room with gray tiled floor that stretches off in all directions until it melts into
    complete darkness. As this happens, Willow suddenly does a dramatic twirl past
    Spike. They circle each other, always eluding the other's grasp as they sing.
    
    
    WILLOW.
    Oh, I love you the most,
    Always giving up the ghost
    In your own private conversation.
    SPIKE.
    You're a sweet mystery.
    There is nothing in between
    You and the Mona Lisa.
    
    
    
    They spin apart and begin to waltz, their bodies never touching, but never further than an
    inch apart.
    
    
    WILLOW.
    Nothing in particular
    And everything in between:
    This is what you mean to me
    SPIKE.
    Only you and only me
    Climbing in the right direction
    On the way to everything.
    
    
    Spike dips her and she dissappears into a cloud of sparkles. He looks around and
    doesn't see her. She reappears behind him. He turns as she she sings.
    
    
    WILLOW.
    We were walking up high,
    And no one thought to try --
    SPIKE.
    --But I was the one to blame.
    
    
    
    A bright sun rises in the blackness above them. Spike breaks away. He falls to his
    knees and covers his face with his hands.
    
    
    SPIKE.
    And it was just a mirage,
    So I hid in the garage...
    WILLOW.
    'Til somebody called your name.
    
    
    
    Willow waves her hand high and the sun turns into a gorgeous moon. The darkness
    around them is suddenly filled with stars. She goes to Spike and lifts him to his feet,
    their bodies touching at last. He looks at their skin touching, then meets her eyes.
    They embrace and kiss deeply then resume the dance, hands clasped together,
    Spike's arm twined protectively around Willow's graceful waist.
    
    
    WILLOW.
    Oh, I love you the most,
    Always giving up the ghost
    In your own private conversation.
    SPIKE.
    You're a sweet mystery,
    And there's nothing in between
    You and the Mona Lisa.
    
    
    
    The continue to dance under Willow's star-filled sky until the music fades into
    nothingness. The light gradually fades, too, until its last rays fall upon the two lovers
    entwined in each other's arms as they sink to the floor....
    


	7. Nothin' On Me

**Nothin' On Me  
**  
  
  
Interior of Spike's car. Spike is groovin' to his own music, looking forward to some good, healthy torture and death. How pleasant. And as a bonus, he might actually get Dru back. He grins at the thought.  
  


Well I don't tell jokes,  
And I don't take notes.  
You been sayin' there ain't much hope.  
You got nothin' on me!  
  


Apparently he is singing to a very absent Buffy. The road ahead winds on as he sings.  
  


I got friends uptown  
And they don't talk down.  
They been keepin' me safe and sound.  
We got somethin' to be!  
  
So in case you hadn't noticed, I'm all right!  
Not like I saw before.  
Things used to be so hopeless, but not tonight!  
Tonight I'm walkin' out that door....  
  


Time does funny things... or rather, we shoot the camera towards the sky and show the sun setting, sped up so that it only takes three beats of the song. Spike pulls over to one of those gas station/junk store places. He walks in and buys a few bottles of whisky. He exits again, but instead of getting back in the car, he jumps onto the hood, proceeds to sit there sipping whisky and singing as the sky darkens from firey red to starry black.  
  


I'm not gonna cry.  
I'm waving good-bye,  
And I know this time,  
You got nothin' on me!  
  


He glances back towards Sunnyhell, grinning. "Nothin', you hear that, Fluffy? I don't owe you another bloodydamn thing!" He giggles and hops back into the car.  
  


Well it ain't that tough.  
Just more of the usual stuff...  
  


He grins at the thought of Dru chained to a wall.... then Dru no longer chained to a wall and wearing very little clothing.... Then... heh heh........... >:-) (the author is very much aware that her audience has a collectively dirty mind. Fill in the blank yourselves.)  
  


I got friends uptown  
And they still come 'round.  
They been keepin' me safe and sound.  
We got something to be!  
  


Spike takes another swig of whiskey. More playing with time. He is now standing outside a building which, we assume, is where Drusilla is hiding. As he steps up to the door, he turns back to a dream-Buffy. She holds a stake up and smirks in a patronizing manner.  
  


So don't you try to save me with your advice,  
Or turn me into somebody else,  
'Cause I'm not crazy and you're not nice.  
Baby, keep it to yourself!  
  


He reaches out and "pops" the dream-Buffy. Grinning, he kicks the door in. "Dru-SIIIIILLA!" he calls. "Daddy's home, pet!" Zoom out. Camera focuses on a window of the apartment. We see two shadows -- Dru and Spike. Dru backs towards the window, but is grabbed by Spike and thrown, willingly, out of our view. Spike stands there a second, then joins her. A moment later, the light goes out.  
  


I'm not gonna cry,  
And I'm waving good-bye,  
And I know this time  
You go nothin' on me!  
  



End file.
